The Grayscale
by jjhatter
Summary: What happened to Bele and Lokai after the events of "'Let That Be Your Last Battlefield'"? Here's my idea! R&R!


Hey there, readers! This idea has been buzzing around in my head ever since I saw the episode _"Let That Be Your Last Battlefield." _While it is not required that you watch the episode, it will make things easier on you when you read this, as the last few minutes are told in the first two chapters. Any questions you have will be answered either later on or by that episode.

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for my description of Cheron and Bele and Lokai's families. The rights for that go to Gene Roddenberry and whoever has taken over _Star Trek_ from him since his death.

Summary: Bele and Lokai chased each other back to Cheron. After that, we never saw them again. What happened to the half-white, half-black haters?

**Chapter I: Race (Bele's P.O.V.)**

Bele smiled triumphantly, to himself, listening to the monotones as they puzzled:

"Current route, Mr. Chekov?" asked the pointy-eared one in a voice that matched his bland skin.

"I don't rightly know, Vister Spock," said the Russian in a confused tone. "I vas trying to program for Starbase 4, as ordered…I can't get a response!"

"It just seemed to go dead, sir," added the woman with the dark-toned skin and enormous hair-do.

The Captain, Kirk (oh, how Bele despised _him_), stepped up behind the Vulcan curiously as Spock turned his cold gaze to the computer and flipped some switches.

"Captain, some of the memory banks of the computer have burned out."

"Can you determine which ones?"

_I'll answer that._

"The directional control and self-destruct banks, Captain, are both burnt out," he smirked, mimicking the blue-suited Vulcan, who raised an eyebrow. "I did it like this…"

And Bele pulled on his gloves – _nothing up my sleeves, monotones_ – and then held his hands over the computer…

CHhHhHhHhK! CHhHhHhHhK! One hundred volts of electricity flew from his fingers, threatening to strike the computer like bolts of lightning but just missing, while the monotone crew all watched, stunned save the Vulcan.

Bele grinned at Kirk, the electricity switching off inside him, gland by gland going dull. It was perfectly clear to the human: if the Captain tried again to destroy the _Enterprise_ – a bluff he had used already to fool Bele – he would ultimately fail. Bele closed his eyes, his mind's eye on the ship's engines.

_Enterprise. Obey. I am captain. To Cheron._

He felt the ship turn beneath his feet at his will. The door to the bridge slid open, and the Scottish monotone ran in, his expression urgent. He took one look at Bele, and seemed to understand exactly what was going on. He glared and sat down at his bridge room post.

"Now…can we go to Cheron without further discussion?" Bele asked, almost pleasantly.

Kirk stared at him long and hard.

"At the moment," he said with a weary sigh, "I seem to have no choice."

The door slid open again, and Lokai – the treacherous half-white – entered. He snarled upon seeing the situation before him.

"So!" he rapped. "THIS is justice after Arrianus! You've signed my death warrant!"

He pointed at Bele like a preacher pointing out a grievous sinner. Bele glared deeply.

"I warned you of what to expect from him!" he shouted. "Will you all allow this mockery of justice to go on? If you are partisans of justice, prove it: kill him!"

"We are nut kellers!" said Scotty.

"Then what do you do, carry justice on your tongues? You _will_ beg for it, but you _will NOT_ fight, or DIE, for it?"

"After so many years of leading the fight," Kirk observed, "You seem very much alive."

"I doubt that the same can be said for many of his followers," Spock said coolly.

_Got that right, monotone._

"You're finished, Lokai!" Bele sneered, striding over to the traitor. "By now, we'll have got your kind penned up on Cheron into little districts, and that is not going to change! You've combed the galaxy, and all you've come up with is monocolored trash, do-gooders, and bleeding hearts? You're dead, you half-white!"

Lokai's brown eyes were like hot coals. He glanced over at Kirk and Spock.

"Useless pieces of bland flesh," he growled, and then turned back to Bele. His fingers twitched.

"I'll take you with me, you HALF-BLACK!" he roared, and leapt at Bele. His gloved hands wrapped around his neck. With a grunt of frustration, Bele dug his fingers into Lokai's sides. Sparks flew everywhere, mixed with the scent of burning cloth.

"Bele!" Kirk called out, a hand held out as if to placate him. "Keep this up, and you'll never get to Cheron with your prisoner! The ship will be irreparably damaged…it will be your final battlefield, and your fifty-thousand years of pursuit will be wasted!"

Bele snarled; he _hated_ it when the human was right. He broke off, as did Lokai, each glaring at the other. Lokai's brown eyes burned like charcoal, his blue ones stung like ice. The mixed powers between he and his captive twisted around in his gut like eels.

"And you, Lokai!" Kirk went on. "You'll die here, in space! You'll inspire no more disciples! Your cause will be ended!"

"Remember, Captain: political sanctuary is my right!" Lokai snapped back. "I am your prisoner, so honor that right, or the fight will go on and your ship will burn up!"

"You've made your point," Kirk said with a blunt nod.

_Oh, no you don't, half-white. Not THIS time. NOT THIS TIME!_

"If you listen to his legalistic trickery," bellowed Bele, "I shall destroy this ship, and everyone aboard!"

"I understand," said Kirk slowly with another nod. "Now, will return the _Enterprise_ to my control?"

There was a long pause.

"Why not?" Bele said with a shrug.

_Enterprise, I release you._

The ship stopped.

"Scotty," Kirk called. "Have repairs on the directional controls been completed?"

_Blast._

"Aye, sir. Rerouted."

"Check controls and coordinates," Kirk ordered, sitting down in his chair.

"Controls responding as usual," Sulu replied. "_Enterprise_ is responding as usual."

"Locking onto coordinates," Chekov added.

The Vulcan suddenly looked up from the viewing screen of his computer.

"Captain," droned Spock. "We are in scanning range of Cheron."

"Is it within visual range?" questioned Kirk, while Bele smirked in the direction of Lokai, who stood rigid and stiff, his fingers flexing into and out of a fist.

"Coming into visual range now, Captain."

Kirk nodded to the Russian.

"Chekov," he ordered. "Put it on screen. Extreme magnification."

_Ah, Cheron. Home sweet…_

_Whoa._

The once blue waters of the seas were gray. The land, once so silvery from space from its many cities, was now coal black. And zig-zagging lines of red were everywhere.

_What happened while I was away?_

"What are you picking up?" Kirk asked Spock.

"Several very large cities – uninhabited. Extensive traffic systems – devoid of traffic. Various lower animals encroaching in the cities…no sign of sapient lifeforms registering at all, Captain…"

The half-white seemed just as shocked and confused as Bele. Where did everybody go?

Spock spoke again. His words filled the entire party with dread.

"There is no sign of natural disaster, yet there are a vast number of unburied corpes in all the cities…"

The pointy-eared one stopped, as if he felt saying anything else would be "illogical."

Bele shook his head in disbelief.

"No…"

"Y-you mean…all of the people are dead?" Kirk asked quietly, almost equally shocked.

Spock exhaled long and deeply, the closest he'd probably come to sighing in his entire lifetime.

"All dead, Captain. They have annihilated each other…totally."

There was a horrible, long moment of utter silence.

"All my people…all dead?" Bele inquired, tears of rage – not sorrow – filling his eyes.

"Yes, Commissioner. _All_ of them."

"No one alive?" Lokai almost squeaked, voice choked.

"None at all, sir."

Bele took a deep breath, his fists clenched, electricity once again beginning to surge through the marrow of his blue bones, his body almost red hot with it. He turned slowly, menacingly towards Lokai, who did the same towards him.

"YOUR BAND OF MURDEROUS TRAITORS!"

"YOUR MEGALOMANIACS!"

The pair practically pounced upon each other, fingers pressed against each others chests, each white-hot with electrical energy. The ship rocked, and sparks shot out and spat against the walls of the bridge room. Skin boiled, cloth singed.

"STOP IT!" Kirk yelled. "What's the matter with you two? You heard Spock! Your planet is dead! There's nobody alive left on Cheron because of hate!"

Tired, sweating, panting and burning, Bele groaned and pushed himself away. Lokai did the same. The half-white flung himself against the wall, clawing at his chest and gasping. Bele leaned against the railing, one hand on his neck, the other on his forehead.

"The cause you've fought about no longer exists! Give yourselves time to breathe, give up your hate!"

Bele glared angrily. How could a pathetic _human_ understand?

"Your welcome to live with us," Kirk went on in a urgent voice.

Bele snorted.

_Never._

"Listen. To. Me!" Kirk said, his voice frenzied. "You _both_ must end up _DEAD_…if you don't stop hating!"

"An idealistic dreamer," scoffed Lokai.

_And you AREN'T, you murderer?_

Lokai ran through the doors, and then headed for the elevator. Bele immediately knew where he was going. He rose to his feet, ready to follow…

"Bele…"

Kirk and Spock had spoken at the same time. Bele turned to the monotonous pair.

"The chase is finished," Kirk hissed.

"He must not escape me," Bele growled.

Spock blinked.

"Where can he go?" he questioned.

In response, Bele nodded toward the video screen, still picturing the war-torn Cheron.

Then he turned and ran to the elevator, ignoring Kirk as he called after him. He descended to the next floor, noticing burnt cloth on the button. Fire filled his mind…his family burning up in their manor…his office rubble…his comrades writhing in agony…

He ran out of the elevator. McCoy was there. With a beastial snarl, Bele flung him to the floor and dashed down the hall. Ash and blood everywhere…right-black bodies littering the ground…monolithic apartments of his fellow officers toppling onto them…

He glimpsed Lokai ahead, racing into a recreation room. He followed him, and opened the door in time to see him exit through the opposite door. He sprinted on to the the surprise of the crew at the tables, playing chess or poker.

The half-white banged into a crewman exiting a lounge. Bele jumped over the unconscious man. He was catching up. His eyes were glazed with bitter water…

Lokai swung into a room, and Bele entered. He had him now…once he got that filthy half-white in his hands…

He noticed a monotone-devised transporter mechanism.

And he was too late. The half-white was nowhere in sight, and the door he had come through was the only one. He looked at the machine.

The controls were still set for Cheron.

Wonderful.

Bele pressed the transporter button and jumped into the machine. There would be absolutely no escape this time. He was going to kill that fiendish half-white.

Very, _very SLOWLY._


End file.
